


Never Been Kissed

by Volant



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Eventual Sex, F/M, Fluff, Never Been Kissed AU, Slow Build, Unrequited Love, oh and, student/teacher but not really
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-22
Packaged: 2018-03-31 15:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,256
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3983638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volant/pseuds/Volant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When wannabe reporter Brienne Tarth finally gets a chance to earn her spot on the Winterfell Gazette by going undercover as a high school student, she jumps at the opportunity. It sounds easy enough--all she has to do is infiltrate the "popular crowd" and expose the seedy underbelly of the inner-city students--but it's more difficult than she ever imagined. Especially with her history teacher, Jaime Lannister, watching her every move.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The End

The lights are blinding. She should have known—they’re those huge stadium lights, meant to make the field look like it’s still midday even though the sun has set.

  
She brings a hand up to shield her eyes and squints up at the bleachers. They’re full—more than full, actually. She can make out people seated on the hard metal stairs, or crowding up against the platforms above the dugouts. Above them all, the scoreboard is counting down. It’s that number that makes her breath catch in her throat.

  
He won’t come—she already knows that—but those brilliant red digital numbers? Those are hope, and she’s watching them tick away like nothing. For all she knows, that’s what it was. For all she knows, he’s already gone, and he isn’t going to look back.

  
Oh, _God_.


	2. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne gets a special assignment from the EIC himself.

It is seven in the morning, and the coffee pot is empty. Brienne places her hands on the laminate countertop and heaves a sigh.

“Well,” says a voice behind her, “that’s not good.”

Brienne nods her head slightly and turns around to grimace at her fellow fact-checker at the Winterfell Gazette: Ellaria Sand. “How late were you up last night?” she asks as her friend adjusts the straps of her halter top.

“I never went to sleep,” Ellaria shrugs, her dark hair bobbing around her shoulders. “You need to tell Jon that his writers are shit at doing research.”

Brienne rolls her eyes and the two exit the break room together. “Don’t even get me started,” she grumbles. “I had the sports page this time. Do you know how hard it is to screw up a baseball scoreboard?”

“Apparently just as difficult as actually interviewing people.” Ellaria checks her watch. “They should be hitting porches right about now. Have you talked to Jon about your idea yet?”

“Well,” Brienne cleared her throat and shuffled to the side as one of their interns barreled past. “Not exac—”

“Oh,” Ellaria reached up and punched Brienne’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil.”

“Tarth! Sand!” The pair turned to face the editor. Jon—tired, overworked Jon—approached them, and adjusted the tight knot of the black tie around his neck. “Good work this issue. You’re killing it.” He gives Brienne a solid pat on the back and keeps walking.

Ellaria nudges Brienne in the ribs—hard. “Quick, before he gets to his office,” she hissed. “Get him!”

“What?” Brienne swallowed. “I couldn’t. I mean…I’m not ready, I—“

“Snow!” Ellaria shouts over the din of the copy room next door. Brienne groans as her smaller friend hooks one arm around her elbow and drags her forward. “Brienne just remembered, she’s got something she wants to ask you.”

“Oh?” Jon pauses midstep. “What about?”

Ellaria turns her expectant gaze on Brienne. “Go on,” she whispers.

“I, uh,” Brienne stutters. “Sir, I was just…wondering…”

“Well,” Jon sighed. “Spit it out.”

“I just wanted to know if you had a chance to look at that outline I sent you last week? The-the one about the restaurant exposé?”

“Oh.” Jon’s expression brightens. “I did. It was brilliant—gave it to Tarly for the Thursday issue.”

The small bubble of hope that had taken root in Brienne popped. “Ah,” she cleared her throat. “I see.”

“You know, Tarth, you’re a good writer. You know that.” Jon attempted a comforting smile. Key word: attempted. “But you’re a great fact-checker. That’s what we need right now, not another columnist. Okay?”

“I know,” Brienne squeaked.

“Good.” Jon gave a curt nod. “See you two at the staff meeting this afternoon?”

“Definitely,” Ellaria said, and pulled Brienne away. “God, what a bastard. You’re a good writer but a great fact checker,” she mimicked. “I can’t decide if I want to kill him or fuck him.”

“Ell…”

“I know, I know, keep the language work appropriate.” Ellaria rolled her eyes as they slowed to a halt before Brienne’s diminutive office. “Want me to bring you a doughnut or anything before things really get kicking?”

“Too much sugar for me,” Brienne wrinkled her nose. “Besides, I’ve already got to get started on that obesity report.”

“Kill me now.”

“Would you?” Brienne asked hopefully, and pulled at her drab yellow blouse. “Then I wouldn’t have to explain the concept of tact to the entire PR team.”

“You’re funny.” Ellaria snorted. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’ve got a meeting with Oberyn in the second floor restrooms.”

“Oh, God,” Brienne groaned. “That’s just… no.”

“See you at one,” the woman sang, and walked down the hall the way they’d come, leaving Brienne to a stack of paperwork, a broken A/C, and twelve messages from one of the younger staff writers asking what exactly “peer reviewed” sources meant.

It was going to be a long day.

X

Brienne wants to know who exactly decided to hold staff meetings right before lunch. On Taco Tuesday. During her designated fifteen-minute break time. She would, she imagined as she doodled a sword in the margins of her notepad, like to find them and give them a piece of her mind.

Granted, usually when she tried to do that, her "mind" came out as more of a squeak than anything really substantial.

“Informative has been done,” their Editor-In-Chief, the decrepit—albeit passionate—Aemon Targaryen was saying. “Education has been done. What the public wants is drama, excitement…and we’re going to give it to them.”

Brienne snorted softly and began to scratch out the hilt of the sword. Aemon was always talking about excitement, about how the new realm of reporting was just waiting to be “exploited and explored.” It was wishful thinking at its best—the kind of reporting that he wanted to take place on his floor only existed in movies as some kind of dull plot point. Now, if he would pay more attention to the way things actually worked, instead of chasing after some knight-in-shining-armor fa—

“You,” Aemon’s voice rumbled just as a hand descended on Brienne’s shoulder. She jumped. What had he been saying? “You’re a young, strapping fellow. Perfect for the job. What do you say?”

“I-I…” Brienne glanced around the table, hoping for some hint about what she was agreeing too, but Ellaria was too busy playing footsie with her on-again, off-again boyfriend, and Jon was studiously writing everything down…

“Well?” Aemon boomed.

“I…” Brienne took a deep breath. “Yes, sir. Absolutely?”

“Perfect.” Aemon’s hand clapped her on the back. “We’ll get you enrolled and have the story before July.”

Brienne couldn’t find Ellaria fast enough after the meeting let out.

“I missed it,” she hissed, pulling the woman into the empty break room. “What did Aemon ask me to do?”

“You’re joking.” Ellaria gasped, eyes wide. “Oh my God, it’s what you’ve been waiting for. This is it!”

“I’m writing a story?” Brienne asked.

“Not just that—the poor guy’s eyesight must be failing or something, by the way, because you do not look like a high school student—you get to go undercover to get it.”

“Wait.” Brienne frowned. “High school…”

“He wants a tell-all revealing all the down and dirty deeds that today’s youth are up to,” Ellaria explained. “It sounded like the popular kids are who he’s really interested. Underage drinking, sexcapades, bullying hierarchy, that sort of stuff.”

Brienne wrinkled her nose. “Oh my God.”

“That’s what I’m saying.” Ellaria shook her head. “But you got it. A guaranteed publication, baby!” She flashed Brienne a brilliant grin. “You’re going places, kiddo.”

Yeah, Brienne thought sarcastically. Not college, but places.


End file.
